


Frostbite

by coffinofachimera



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Friends With Benefits, Harry-centric, Hotels, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalizing, M/M, Smut, Struggle With Sexual Identity, Unresolved Personal Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffinofachimera/pseuds/coffinofachimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Liam knocks on Harry's hotel door in the middle of the night, Harry comes face to face again with the only opportunity he’s ever had of giving emotional shelter. But his perception always fails him, and he saves Liam from a storm he didn’t know followed close behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frostbite

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during the OTRA tour and before the cancelled concert. This was a story I had hoped to finish much earlier! I wanted to write something very angsty. The story explores the topic of internalizing emotions, and personal struggles with sexual orientation. I hope the story is something you enjoy reading.

Hearing knocking on his hotel room's door always makes Harry jump a little. Nobody knocks anymore. And you'll get a warning text before any visits to your door. Sudden knocking late in the night hardly sounds benign, Harry reasons. But only because anticipating something awful for anticipation's sake has become routine. He glances down at his naked wrist to check the time, forgetting he'd placed it on the nightstand. The door knocks again as he reaches over grab his watch.

1:49am, he reads. It's late.

"It's Liam."

Harry's chest unwinds, relieved to hear Liam's voice. But he's surprised, still. Can't remember the last time any of the boys have just knocked on his door like that, out of the blue. He gets a little excited— And he thinks it unwise. But only as quietly as he possibly can; annoyed by his own stubborn pessimism. "Coming." Harry calls out, and he's quiet about that, too. He stands up from the edge of the bed and makes his way to the door.

"Hi."

"Hey." Liam's scratching his hairy cheek when Harry swings the door open. He stands slumped in a cheap Avengers t-shirt and grey sweatpants, making him look alien in the elegant white and gold hallway. "Were you asleep?" He asks.

"No. I drank coffee earlier. It's keeping me up."

"Were you doing something?"

"Not... Not really, no."

And Liam hums, nodding as he gives a little smile. "Nice to see you're awake." Harry leans against the door frame, looking at him through short, feathery lashes. And he smiles back. Seeing Liam standing outside his door is nice. Nicer than it would be if it were any of the other boys.

Harry can tell by the fluffy curls on the top of his head that he's taken a shower. He likes cold, long ones after concerts. The way he takes his time makes him a powdery kind of pale by the time he's out, like he's washed off a bit of his gold. These days, Harry hasn't had the chance to see Liam sleepy and freshly post-shower pasty like that. He looks so different, Harry thinks to himself. Not the fitted and ready, dashing man he's grown accustomed to in the past months. Now Liam's just a baby. The baby he really is, if Harry's honest. If only the reek of Axe body wash hanging off his body didn't spoil the immaculacy.

"What's with the watch?"

"Hm?" Harry looks down, now conscious of the cold, gold Rolex weighing down his hand. "Oh. Nothing, I just... forgot to set it down." He chuckles, stopping himself from telling the whole story from the beginning when Liam knocked. _It's not that funny, spare him_ , he warns himself.

"What time is it?"

"Like, one fifty." Harry checks the watch. "One fifty two. Exactly." And he looks back up. "What's up, man? What do you need?"

Liam's eyebrows jump up for just a second. Like he's surprised. Shifting his weight to pause like he's restructuring, and waiting for his words to catch up with him. "Just uh... you know, just wondering if I could bunk with you. Because my uh... My room's fine it's just, I don't know, felt like coming over. Thought, 'Wonder what Styles is doing'. What were you doing? Were you asleep?"

"Um..." Harry weighs the watch up and down in his hands, and then he chuckles. "Already asked me that, actually."

"Right! The coffee."

"Did you just wake up?"

"No." And Liam laughs, "Why? Am I acting a bit kooky?"

"No, it's ju— No, nothing. Nothing."

"Okay. Then..." There's another forced pause, like Liam doesn't want to seem insistent. "...Is it alright if I come in?"

Harry stares at Liam's face quietly, amused at whatever he's doing. Even more amused when he watches Liam grow uncomfortable in that quiet, turning his head to look down the hall. _What's with him?_ , he thinks. "If you have a problem with your room accomodations, Liam... I'd be happy to get the hotel manager for you." Teasing; tone sobering and face aloof in comedy.

"What? No..." Liam whines, but he plays it off like he's exaggerating for the joke. "Don't keep me out here. I don't wanna wake anyone up."

"But what's wrong with your room?"

"Nothing."

"Why do you have to come into my room?"

"Come on, now, stop it." He laughs.

"Let's go to the lobby!" The watch jingles in Harry's hand as he points down the hall, taking a few steps forward.

"Shh, why are you— "

"I'll get the _manager_ for yo—!"

" _Sshhhhh!_ " Liam hisses through gritted teeth, covering Harry's mouth as he pushes him back in his room, and takes the opportunity to step inside with him.

Harry laughs that honky laugh, nose crinkling as he watches Liam jiggle the hotel door to check if it's closed. "Really, a hotel door?! What's the matter with you?"

"Security's down the hall, you know! Gonna hear you with all that hotel manager talk. God, I bet they did."

"No one's there." Harry says, walking away towards his bed. "It was empty when I came up." He places his watch back on the nightstand, gold clanking down onto wood. And he takes a seat on the edge of the mattress again. His long, curly brown hair rests well past his shoulders, and he brings his hand to mindlessly fluff the tips.

"Can be so nosy." Liam tries to defend his concern. "Sometimes the security guards just wanna get in on gossip. Those new ones."

Harry chuckles. "Why are you being so paranoid, Liam?"

"Well, I don't think it's all that serious, I don't know. Just feel like... extra private."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

And Harry forgets to say something. _Why not be paranoid?_ Yeah, why not. Privacy and perturbation; hand in hand. Nothing new to them. "Yeah."

"Some days you just feel like hiding a bit... more, I suppose. Always have to hide."

And it happens again. Liam hits a nerve.

Hiding; Harry starts to think of all the things he has to say about it, recently. Heavy things with a burdenful weight; tabloids, stalking, insecurity, chart numbers. So he buckles up to hold himself back. Shoves away what he wants to say. Says something dumb, instead.

"Is it because you're extra ugly tonight?"

Spontaneously, Liam brings a hand to feel the frizzy curls at the top of his head. Poodle puff, he calls it. Hates it. "Oh yeah." He's looking out the door's peephole, "I'm like the Hunchback of..." And he turns around, "What's it called... Nor.... Nordrom...?"

"Notre Dame."

"Notre Dame... God, I butchered that. They just kept him locked inside all the time, didn't they? _'For his own safety.'_ "

"I guess that makes us all a couple of Quasimodo's."

"Yeah. You know I never watched that movie?" But Liam moves on when Harry doesn't reply quick enough. "Oh, I was texting Niall. He said he saw some— well, he thinks he saw some fans down at the lobby. Cos there was a group."

Harry's brow furrows, and he turns his head to side to face Liam. "Now? At this hour?"

"No, it was earlier. I suppose that's also why I'm feeling quite watchful. I hate it when they sneak in. It's so bloody nerve-wrecking."

Harry holds his breath, and then lets go. "Well... Good thing I've been in my cage all night. No Bigfoot sighting pictures of me today."

" _Bigfoot?!_ " Liam bursts out laughing, but shuts himself up in fear he'll wake someone. He just giggles, "Oh God... They're always looking for you! You're Bigfoot. I'm like, Mothman. Who's ever looking for Mothman..."

But Harry doesn't say anything. He takes a moment to observe Liam, more confused than he is amused, this time. "Uh..." He shouldn't be so straightforward about what he wants to say, but it comes out with jagged edges anyway. "I'm sorry, Liam, is this what you... came over for?"

And his face drops, "What?"

"Because you were just so intense about coming in, like.... You just wanted to have a chat?"

"Am I annoying you?" Liam chuckles softly, looking downhearted.

Harry furrows his brow. "No, no! I'm just confused. You're tense. I feel like I'm missing something. Or if you want do something else."

"Am I? Tense."

"Yeah, I mean... you're still standing by the door."

And he is. Liam hasn't made an effort to move away from the door after he stepped in. He's being that contrived kind of casual he's been since he knocked, except now he stands ten feet away from Harry in the darkest part of the room where the beside lamp's light barely shines. So it's worse. And it's funny, but it gives Harry charged thoughts to run with. _Run_ , the word shines in his head. He's picking at his bottom lip, now; his nervous tic.

"You're making me nervous." That was reckless, Harry thinks with a sigh as he looks to the wall with slight and subtle melancholy. Now Liam's gonna get upset.

"Jesus, sorry, I don't— I don't know." He snorts, face turning red. "Yeah, sorry. You're right. I'm..." He yells very quietly, scruffing up his hair with his hands.

That makes it even worse. Harry breathes, composing himself to ask hopefully as he looks again to Liam, "Is it just about the fans in the lobby?"

Liam hesitates before admitting the truth. "No. Nothing like that."

And that turns up the heat, bringing Harry's nerves to a boil. His subtly widened green eyes, brow wrinkled; a tight expression. He turns his head down to the carpet when he sees Liam walking over. Harry doesn't know what to make of what might happen when he sits down. Would he have been right in his pessimism, to believe that only bad news could come knocking in the night? A slight depression always pinches him when he proves himself to be right. Can't just have a good thing.

Liam can get so serious, is the thing. Dramatic; he's a profoundly emotional person. Talking on for hours. God knows there isn't a shortage of topics to go on about. The boys' worries could drown them in the homes their sanities take shelter in if they chose to bite their tongues about calling for help. They always take shelter in each other when a storm comes, getting all the water out. But Harry can't handle that. Ever. Ill-equipped to handle any of it, he worries.

Worry; that feeling is different for Harry. Because he finds it's hard to really see damage for what it is. At least now. He's always worrying. Worrying is guessing. Worrying is never not; a constant state. Always pensive and pessimistic, building layers until it hardens and blocks his ability to feel the impact. It blackens the walls around him, rendering him blind to the measure of damage. And that makes him different from the other boys, he thinks. There never really comes a point for him to see an emergency; he'll never cry for help. Not at all anxiety, he's come to realize. He lives in a quiet, default crisis. Painless in the way skin calluses in constant trauma.

There isn't a problem Harry's really faced and conquered . He hoards it behind a bulging door, and stands guard beside it all day long. Harry can't afford to creak the door open to give shelter to someone else's worries, or even let some of his out. There's no shelter in him, anymore. That's Harry's own fault; nurturing such a nasty habit. The times he's betrayed himself and opened the door, optimistic of what relief would come from letting out some of his burdens, catastrophes came devastating instead. Nothing but fast-paced panic; stunned quiet in the overwhelming roar of water swallowing everything whole. He didn't know there was so much in there. Always betrayed by his own perception. Liam is always the one to pull Harry out from the water. The only one that ever could; brave enough to take on the storm. But in the aftermath, Harry just stands in the rubble of his washed away shelter, forced to start all over again.

So never again, he promised not too long ago. It's gone too far for him to do anything, anymore. Now it's just a matter managing; buying locks, reinforcing the door. Harry has to keep that door closed. Nothing from outside to come in. Nothing from inside to come out. And then it becomes a matter of playing the part of the person of his dreams. That's the best shelter he knows; the one he visits. The sound of hundreds of thousands of people roaring just because he gave a twirl, or made a joke, or smiled. Three best friends. Having people break down crying because they're so happy to just see him. To be someone's dying wish. There's a good for every one of his bads, he knows it. His dream is to live there. To live in that loud, default heaven and leave his dark shelter to rot itself away along with everything hoarded in it. It's just a hard to stay in heaven. Visiting is easier. To pretend.

So no one knows. Harry's never voiced anything but a comment veiled in a forged capacity to handle it all on his own. Veiled; such a perfect, privileged, put-together person he's thought to be. Not a trouble in the world. Why he can only offer elementary advice, and joke in the face of tragedy while everyone stops to grieve. Nobody who knows Harry comes to him to voice their woes and expect anything but poorly worded phrases of general reassurance. Hugs, gifts, food; no real guidance. _"Why am I even talking to you? You wouldn't understand."_ Because Harry just can't. As much as he wishes he could.

Liam always can. Born for it. He'll give shelter to everyone, somehow; natural born healer. So it concerns Harry that he's here right now. The pro coming to the amateur for advice— He can't interpret that as harmless. He can't take the weight. Did Liam forget? Harry doesn't want to see him disappointed.

The bed dips beside him, and he turns his head to Liam. _Does Axe always smell so fucking bad?_ , Harry focuses on right away to distract from everything else. _Like a prepubescent high school soccer player_. _I'm so funny_ , Harry thinks. But after looking at Liam for just a moment more, his earlier thought about him looking like a baby come back to him, too. And he lets it endear him, calm him down. Harry finds himself looking at Liam's face, going over whatever he can take in. The unique, patchy pattern of his beard; his plump bottom lip. Deep brown eyes scan the floor mindlessly, and then he looks up at Harry to smile meekly, as if to say sorry. And Harry asks, "What's wrong?" Expecting the worst, again. The routine of his pessimistic anticipation.

"I, uh..." Liam's taking his phone out the pocket of his sweatpants, setting it beside him. "I was just... I was in my thoughts in my room, is all. Was driving me... absolutely crazy."

Harry doesn't want to know. "Yeah?" He's starting to feel cold. He's under-dressed in a t-shirt and boxer briefs. He'd be under the covers right now if he could. Get away from the cold, get away from this situation. Harry pulls down at the hem of his boxer briefs, covering more of his chilly skin.

"It's just personal stuff. But I thought of you. Like, everyone else is asleep. I just wanted to come into your room and chill."

"Netflix and chill."

And Liam snorts before breaking into a laughing fit, pushing Harry's shoulder. "Shut up! God... I fucking hate you!" His eyes crinkle shut as he bends over giggling, "Netflix and chill..."

It was Harry's unintentional derailing; adding cold water to a boiling pot to make it die down again. A stupid joke. He laughs, happy it was well-received.

_"I'm being fucking serious, you prick. Is this just a joke to you? Are you capable of empathy at all?"_

_"I'm sorry I— I didn't mean for it to come out that way. Sorry. I just—"_

_"Don't fucking care. As usual. You only care about yourself. Whatever, just leave."_

"You know, Harry, I didn't— I don't really want to talk about anything."

And Harry's face softens. He turns his head to Liam quickly, even though Liam isn't looking at him. Bless him, really. He knows Harry so well to reassure him like that, unprompted. And Harry breathes a sigh of relief.

"I just felt like I needed to get out of there. It's like when you go out to get some fresh air. Except I can't, obviously." Now Liam turns to see Harry staring back. The light from the nightstand lamp shines on his face. He smiles, "You've always got pleasant ambience going on. Let's see, it's scented candles, some slow rock ballads uh... bath bombs...?" Harry's laughing and it's contagious. Liam can't finish his sentence.

"I was gonna read a book, actually. None of that." He giggles. "Tonight, at least." In Our Time by Ernest Hemingway is stuffed somewhere in Harry's luggage bag, the poor thing still waiting since last month to have the wedged bookmark pulled free from its pages.

"Oh. That's too bad. I got to looking forward to your weird, freaky shit."

Harry snorts. "No, but... are you sure you don't want to talk about anything?" He pushes against his own wants, even if it's just for show right now. Liam deserves his effort to try. He chews on his bottom lip, flushing it a brighter shade of pink. "It's alright if you just want to get something out..."

"Nah. I don't, really. To be honest. But thanks."

Harry decides maybe he'd like to try again. Genuinely. He wants to know, "You were really weird at the door. Was that just...?"

"Honestly I was just... super nervous about how I'd go about coming over. I realized when I got to the door like, ' _God, I should've just texted first_ '. I don't know, just wasn't in my right mind. I must've been planning the whole thing in my room for maybe twenty minutes. Mate, I don't know what the fuck was going on. Looking back I was just overthinking it. My brain was proper frying. I'm telling you."

"Well I appreciate the gesture." Harry says lightheartedly. "Nice to hear you think... I'd like, make you feel better."

"You always have, you know? But... at the same time I know you're not— Like, I don't expect anything from you that I know you've got trouble really giving. But just the small stuff you can do like, that makes me feel better. What you're able to do makes me feel better. Which I thought would be something vanilla-scented."

Harry laughs, cheeks dimpling. Admiration starts moving in. For Liam. For being such a warm, compassionate person. For being too good to him. But really, that feeling for him has always been there. "Thank you... Do you really feel better?" He's skeptical of that.

"Yeah" Liam rubs his eye for a moment before talking again. "But I'm just so dramatic, aren't I? This whole thing's stupid."

"It isn't. It's alright, don't worry about it."

"I-I just..." Liam tries to honor his word about not wanting to talk, but finds that he can't. "I hate that what's bugging me keeps making me act like such a fucking idiot."

"No, you're not an idiot. And you're not acting like it. It's fine, Liam. We're just talking. Don't stress it."

He hunches over, resting his elbows on his knees. Silent, brewing up words so heavy he feels exhausted when they come out. "You know, the thing is... I-I've talked about this thing before... to you."

Harry feels his face freeze, body feeling lighter. Anticipation. Watching the stoplight change from red, to yellow, to green. It's the longest pause, like waiting for something to drop.

"You're the only person I've ever... opened up about it to."

And it drops.

"You know, don't you? You remember?"

And it hits the floor.

"Yeah." Harry says, voice small enough in his throat it comes out raspy. He takes a deep breath, feeling like it's the first after being held underwater. "It's alright." He tells Liam, but he's telling himself, too. This, the present— it rings in Harry's chest until it hits nerve. "I know. I remember, Liam. You know I understand."

Harry understands.

Right now has happened in the past by the dozens. He'd forgotten about it. The bone destiny throws him. _Here, you can handle this one._ Liam comes to Harry for shelter with a weight he's never been able to carry, a weight that was molded for Harry, instead. And Harry can take him in. Because Liam only has him in this. He has no one else and Harry's always known. _Here it is again, happening again._ Dizzy, grateful, happy for the opportunity that's come back. The only other opportunities come from of dolphin sanctuaries and children's charities. But that's only because he has money. He's hardly the savior he wishes he could be. A real one. This, with Liam, it's raw and so, so personal. Maybe that's why Harry feels closest to Liam out of the boys, in an almost unexplainable way. Something heartfelt and quiet binds them together. The piece of that loud, default heaven that glows in Liam. Here he is again. He hasn't for such a long time.

Harry isn't surprised now that Sophia's gone. 

"You didn't remember at first, did you? When I knocked you didn't know."

Harry wants to respond to that in the best way. To say he'd forgotten about it completely doesn't sound nice. "It's just been a while since last time. You know? I didn't forget all about it. I just didn't see it coming tonight."

"I thought you'd already know when I knocked. But when I saw that you didn't catch on I didn't want to talk about it anymore. When I came in, you know. What I said about like, not wanting to talk. I didn't lie. I didn't trick you or anything or like, trap you." Liam swallows, his tone apologetic. This isn't what he wanted, he'd promise. "You know, I've been trying to deal with it on my own all this time. Instead of coming crying to you and... putting this all on you."

"It's not a burden to me." Harry shakes his head, leaned closed to Liam.

"I should be able to do it on my own... But I just can't. It's worse, now. It's... It's really bad. A proper like, crisis. Jesus."

Harry's heart is racing, making his quiet voice shake when he talks "I'm... happy you're here talking to me about it again." His hands grab onto the edge of the mattress, fingers fidgeting with the hotel bed sheets. He chuckles. "I really am."

Liam's dark brown eyes are looking to the ground. "It's worse. It's really bad." He repeats.

"It doesn't always just go up. Sometimes it comes down and it's worse. It doesn't mean it can't get back up again. It always does." Harry expresses it with his hands; up and down. "It's not, um... not a constant thing. Like, ever."

"It's here..." Liam brings a hand to his throat. "Right there."

"Because Sophia's gone?"

"No." He says quickly. "It's just come out... now that... we broke up. She was making it better like, but I was just ignoring it while it got worse." He shrugs, shaking his head like he's disapproving of himself.

"It's not something you wake up and it's gone. It's more um... like a blooming thing. It takes time, you know, it can be a lot." _Was that a good thing to say?_ , Harry wonders. He's so rusty. He can feel it.

"It doesn't feel like it with you here." Liam's voice is more hushed, now. Not enough of a whisper for it to be obvious he's terrified people will hear him from outside the hall. "Because... you're the only person in, in the world that I feel, like— ... I can't come to anyone else and feel as safe as I've always felt with you. I've kind of been neglecting that, I guess. But it means a lot to me that you're here. For me. Right now."

Harry's heart pumps harder with every word as the corner of his lips turn into a smile. He has to take a deep breath, letting it out slow.

"You don't even have to say anything. I swear, mate, you don't. I felt better already when we were just talking about Quasimodo in the beginning. I don't need to talk to you _about_ it and I just feel so much better, anyway. This is the best I've felt in.... God, almost a year, I think. Since last time I was with you talking about it. You just know, and you get me, and I don't have to hate myself for once."

"There's nothing wrong with you. Come on, Liam. You know that..."

He sits back up, sighing as he straightens his back. "Yeah, see that's the thing. I can only remember when I'm with you." And Harry doesn't remember when Liam started bouncing his leg so hard. "It's like something's been lifted right off my chest and I can just fucking breathe. It's like you're holding my hand." He laughs, bringing up a hand to rub over his eyes. "God, I don't fucking know. Just a reassuring feeling you get from something like that. Primal or like, instinctive. You know like when researchers say stuff like that. Like, it just runs in such a deep way I can feel how it... just, like... I feel..." Liam's voice trails off, like he's being distracted by nothing. He can't think. Harry watches Liam spill over, dizzying in the mess.

And then he reaches for Liam's hand, and intertwines their fingers.

It's the first and only thing Harry thinks about. Instinctive, just like Liam said. And Liam's hand is warm, sturdy. He squeezes Harry's hand first before Harry squeezes back. Harry watches him take such a deep breath, letting it go harshly. And as his heart beats faster he wonders, worries about what Liam's thinking. If maybe he went beyond what lied in his responsibility, and did wrong in submitting to instinct. Maybe Liam doesn't want the same thing as before. Maybe right now isn't what he's always given shelter to.

Liam turns to look down at their clasped hands. Doesn't look for long. And he breathes heavier as he blindly traces his thumb over Harry's cold skin, his gaze to the ground. He's trying to come up with words, his lips moving every time he thinks he's going to speak but doesn't. And then Liam just blurts it in the smallest whisper.

"Can I kiss you?"

Harry's eyebrows curve up, surprised and sympathetic. "Yeah... " He lets out a little laugh, bouncing their clasped hands up and down on the mattress.

The room feels so quiet, the air almost like magic; promising something special the way it always has.

"Like before, yeah?"

"Yeah..." Liam breathes, and he keeps breathing for a moment. "Can—Can you turn off the light? Please."

Harry's fingers fumble to get to the switch. When the lights go off he can already feel the warmth of Liam's body closer. And he doesn't even have to turn around all the way for Liam to turn his head himself and crush their lips together.

Harry feels his tongue; mouth open for a wet, passionate kiss. Their fingers untangle for Liam to cup his face, sliding his fingers up into his long curls as he lets them both fall back onto the mattress. Saliva makes the kiss sloppy, the sound loud and exciting. Liam pulls Harry closer until his lithe body is halfway on top of him and his bare leg hooks over his thigh. Desperately he feels him; switching between sliding his hand under his shirt and rubbing up his back, and squeezing and holding his smooth, naked thigh. Harry's skin is soft and chilly from the hotel air, and having Liam's body all over him is making him warm with a feverish kind of lust. Kissing and kissing and kissing.

And Harry can't breathe. He doesn't remember Liam kissing so fiercely, and he finds himself outperformed. Harry turns his body to lie back on the mattress, gasping and blinking up into the dark. Liam's quick to adapt and gets on top of him, full weight on his body. He keeps kissing down Harry's neck, making his skin wet. Dizzy, Harry's eyes fall closed. This is happening so fast, so suddenly. It hasn't for a long time. But Liam's going too fast; he's emotional. And Harry feels it his obligation— responsibility to slow him down, just a little. Guide him by the hand the way he always does.

"H-Hey..." He whispers, placing his hand behind Liam's head to try and keep him still. "Hey, hey..." And Liam slows down, face buried in Harry's neck as he grinds against his body, arms around him. "Hey... Take it easy..." And they laugh, fitting together. Harry reaches his hand down, his touch sliding over Liam's stomach until he can feel his half-hard cock. "Hm?" He proposes, rubbing it.

Liam laughs softly, "Yeah..."

"Yeah?" Harry breathes against his temple, lips grazing over his skin as he touches up the outline of his erection.

Liam eyes are shut tight, panting into warm skin in the crook of his neck. "Please..."

He plants a kiss to Liam's forehead before he sits up, shooting a glance behind him to the curtains. They're closed properly. No one will see them— Including themselves. The room is nearly pitch black without a single light on. Liam and Harry are riding blind with only touch and feeling forcing them closer together to find their way. They're dark figures to each other in this room. But it's hardly an anonymous feeling. Even in the dark Liam and Harry recognize each other better than anyone else can. From the texture of skin to the melody of breathing— There's no denying. After Harry, Liam sits up next to watch him get off the bed and down between his legs. He scoots forward, eager to bring Harry's face to his crotch. He's desperate to take off his sweatpants and underwear quickly, but he lets Harry do it instead. Worth the wait; the way his hands touch Liam's skin. He swallows down a moan and breathes out hard instead at the first contact of Harry's hand on his cock.

Harry licks his lips, stroking up and down Liam's erection as he rubs himself through his boxer briefs with his free hand. Liam's cock feels big, but maybe it's because it's been so long since Harry's felt it last. He wishes it wasn't too dark to see it, remembering now how exciting seeing it the very first time was. Harry pushes his long hair back before bringing his head forward to take Liam in his mouth. And like lightning, goosebumps rush under his skin and up his back. Harry loves the taste in his mouth, loving the way his cock grows harder and bigger in his mouth as he moves his head back and forth, sucking him off. It gets too stiff to angle downward, so Harry has to scoot closer, straightening his back to start bobbing his head up and down. The faintest moans fall from Liam's lips with every breath he lets out. He's sitting forward, hand on the back of Harry's neck. Harry just keeps his eyes closed, giving head nice and slow as he touches up Liam's hairy, naked thighs.

And then he feels a light on his face. Quickly he stops, looking up to see the screen of Liam's phone shining down at him. He panics, dropping his hand. "Don't—"

"I'm not recording." Liam blurts, and laughs nervously. He flashes the light on his own face before pointing it back at Harry to see. "It's just the lock screen." Harry's brow relaxes, seeing it's not the camera that's open on the screen. "I-I just wanted to see you..." And Liam reaches down his hand again to caress his cheek, moving it to rest on the back of his neck again.

Harry just laughs, liking Liam's efforts against anonymity between them. He takes Liam's cock in his hand again, lowering his head to leave a kiss on the tip as he strokes it up and down. Harry hears Liam shift, leaning back on his elbows to watch the show a different angle. Harry tilts his head to the side so Liam can get a pretty view of his lips around him. Sucks him faster this time as he bobs his head; letting his cock slide in to the back of his throat, expertly sliding it out without gagging. The light lets him see Liam's cock once he pulls back to jack him off some more. Veiny and thick, the fat head rich in color glistens wet with Harry's drool. Liam guides it back to his mouth, letting him suck him off a little longer.

Then the phone's light goes off. "C'mere." Liam puts his hand on Harry's shoulder so he stops. He moves backwards onto the bed until he's lying down, and then he pats the space next to him beside the pillows so Harry can join. But first Harry undresses, giving his own cock a few tugs once he's naked. His knees ache from rubbing against the carpet. Liam gets on top of him as soon as he's lying with him on the sheets, taking off his own shirt. It sets their bodies ablaze to feel each other so bare and vulnerable. They've never been naked together. And tonight's gonna keep breaking down walls, they both know.

Liam is kissing Harry again, now settled between his spread thighs as he grinds his hips into him, hands planted on the mattress. The kiss is slower, a bit gentler. Harry can breathe easy, resting his head on the pillow as he lets Liam angle his head to kiss him as deep as he wants. Feels his strong body and the way it indulges in him. Harry spreads his legs wider, meeting Liam's thrusts with his hips to rub their cocks together. And Liam's kissing his neck again, moving away Harry's long hair to dig his face into the warmth of his skin. Harry lets out a shaky breath when he feels a hand around his leaking cock. The graceless, clumsy strokes feel good; he goes fast, hard. Liam is unsure about his grip, but just desperate enough to set his insecurity aside.

He drags his lips down Harry's jaw, his neck, his chest. His hands are placed on either side of his torso, holding him still to kiss him hungrily. Harry pants, head on the pillow and back arched. He brings his hand down to Liam's neck, rubbing up into his short, thick hair to hold it gently. But Harry loosens his grip as Liam starts moving down his body. And his breath hitches when he feels Liam's head in between his spread legs. His hands holding Harry's thighs over his shoulders as he kisses him everywhere, rubbing his face hard into the inside of his thighs. He's worshiping Harry's body; just so beautiful to him. Liam's never been there, Harry's thinking over and over, excited about what he hopes he'll do. His erection throbs, twitching every time Liam's fuzzy beard suddenly grazes his sensitive balls while chaffing against his thighs.

And then Liam's hand is around Harry's cock, pulling it back to drag his tongue up to the tip and leave a kiss. Harry gasps before biting his lip to shut himself up again. He lifts his head up to look down, only to be met with the sight of Liam's dark, vague figure between his legs. Liam moves up Harry's body a little, prompting Harry to drop his thighs from his shoulders and place his feet on the mattress. Liam holds himself up on one hand as the other holds Harry's hard, wet dick to his lips. And then he swallows him down hard all the way to the back of his throat, moaning carelessly when he hears the sound that escapes from Harry's lips; that high, hushed whimper the moment his head drops back onto the pillow.

Liam's never sucked dick. He doesn't know how. But getting head from Harry kindled a hunger for it. He bobs his head up and down fast, mimicking the memory in his head from when Harry was sitting between his legs. His cock feels big in his mouth, and he's surprised by how hard it is as it slides against his tongue. Liam's own cock is aching, begging for friction. And he grinds his hips into the mattress to satisfy, somehow. Lust driving him mad.

"Fuck... Li-iam..." Harry stammers in a breathy laugh, his wrist over his eyes. He never saw this coming; Liam sucking him off, and doing such an amazing job at it. This is fun, this is crazy, he thinks. "Ohh my God..."

"Feels good?" Liam mutters, smirking over the wet tip of his cock.

And Harry chuckles, ready to say something cheeky until Liam goes down on him again, and he's knitting his brow together and holding his breath behind parted lips. He thrusts his hips up as he runs his hands up and down his own chest. "Fuck... Oh my God... " Liam's sucking on just the head of his cock, squeezing and pulling on his balls. But he sucks harder than he realizes, and it sends Harry too close to the edge. "Oh God wai— Alright, w-wait, wait!" He breathes frantically, sitting up to slap Liam's shoulder.

And Liam pulls back concerned, holding himself up with both hands on the mattress as he looks up at Harry. "What?"

Harry keeps his hand on Liam's shoulder, eyelids heavy as he pants. The wave of his rejected orgasm slams against him, making his cock ache and his head spin. And then Harry giggles, holding his index finger and thumb parallel to each other in front of Liam's face. "I was this close..." He wonders if Liam can see, though.

"You didn't wanna cum?"

 _So then what did you want to do?_  , Harry knows Liam would whisper next if he wasn't so hesitant to speak at all, conscious of making sure this all stays a secret. There is something Harry wanted to do. But it was a spontaneous desire; nothing premeditated he even intended to carry out. But it's apparent now he ended up doing so anyway. The coffee still hasn't worn off, Harry contemplates. He could keep going. He wants to. "You wanna fuck me?" Harry whispers boldly, grinning as he pushes his hair back. "It'd be fun. You wanna do it?" But Liam is silent, and Harry can't see his face to read it out. It really is so dark in the room. He wonders what time it is.

"Y-Yeah?" Liam suddenly whispers. Harry didn't realize he was sitting up, jacking off furiously. He could tell from the jittering of his arm, the tremble in his voice.

"You want to?" Harry's looking on into the dark.

"...We h-have to be quiet."

"Yeah. We'll be quiet."

Liam leans in to kiss him first before Harry gets a chance to even think about doing it first. And Harry tilts his head, trying to catch up to the fast, desperate pace of his moving lips as he reaches down his hand to take Liam's erection in his grip, stroking it. He feels Liam's hand in his long hair, running his fingers through it before pushing it back and caressing his bare neck. He's so passionate, Harry thinks. And he wonders if he was like this for Sophia. Obviously he would be— Even moreso. Liam and him are just friends. And for some reason Harry finds himself kissing Liam harder, jacking him off harder; jealous and annoyed though he won't admit the first part. Until he remembers Sophia already left him. And he's back to feeling content, suddenly hoping he can put her to shame. Fuck the heartache out of Liam until he forgets, if that's what this is about. It always has been, more or less. He's been kissing Liam's shame away for years.

Liam likes guys. And girls, but he's not so sure about that anymore. He wants either one or the other. But he doesn't understand it isn't a choice for him to make.

The first time Liam found out Harry liked guys is the first time he came to confess to him what idea he had of his sexuality. " _I think I 'm fancying guys, lately. I don't know. What's it like for you?_ " He lied, like liking guys was a weird phase. He begged Harry not to tell a living soul. The same fear tormenting Liam today was alive in him back then, too. That was when they both still had curly mops of hair on top of their heads, and puberty wasn't done spending its last few drops on Harry yet. They were just babies. They only kissed back then. Harry still doesn't know he was the first person Liam ever did.

Coming to Harry became routine. And every time he did he was more heartbroken about it, devastated it was staying in place and becoming harder to ignore even when he was with women. A heavy weight. The jokes he was seeing online about himself being in love with one of the boys suddenly felt threatening. The fans make lists. Collections. Theories. Montages. Of the way Liam looks at them, touches them, the things he says, the way he says them. Insecurity and fear began manifesting itself in defensiveness, the kind that fires shots Liam can't take back. And he'll say something loud and brute in a panic. He has, a few times. Broadcasted to the world. _Pow, pow, pow._ And so, Liam doesn't know what hurts more to wear on his sleeve: homosexual or homophobe. He locked a paradox around his neck that tightens and digs spikes into his skin every time he reaches for the key. _Better to be one than the other? Which one would it be?_ Liam knows which one. And like a coward he chooses to stay bound by the throat, deciding the prick isn't worth setting himself free. It's always been about locks, riddles and codes with him. Liam has never been able to talk to Harry about his sexuality in anything but a cipher.

Harry's liking of men was always spared from his worries. It never bothered him and it still never does. But it was something he found himself caring about in the grand scheme of things over time, in the sense of solidarity. So that made him want to be there for Liam even more than he was being asked for. Getting intimate turned into a way for Liam to be at peace with himself for just a while. Sessions; a break; being pulled out of the water for a breath of air before getting dragged back in. Willingly or unwillingly, Liam doesn't know how he goes back down. But the whole thing never worked with a random fling or even a pricey, talented escort. It had to be Harry. And Harry grew fond of that. He' still in love with the relief he offers one of his best friends from the pain. Such a rare opportunity to shelter; he's happy with what he has. He's always fun and playful about it to keep Liam's shame away, taking good care of him.

The last time Harry talked to Liam was in April of this year. Six months is the longest they'd ever gone without talking about it. Harry even managed to forget his duty until earlier. Memories get buried easily in their job. That time in April, there wasn't talk about Liam's sexuality. Zayn quitting just did a number on him. Different circumstances; Harry didn't— doesn't know why they got to kissing, getting half naked and sucking dick. That must've scared Liam because he never came back until tonight. And in worse condition— It's heartbreakingly apparent. Look how far they have to take it. It's a big wound to tend to. But surprising is the last thing it could be; Liam got dumped.

Sophia meant more to him than he could've ever wished for. His childhood dream came true. _You don't have to give everything up_ , it spoke to him, manifested as his 12 year old self. _Everything can stay the same. You're stronger than what wants to take your place._ If he got to accept it, Liam thought it would just eat his life whole and make a new life its own way, different from everything he knew. And he would lose everything in its place. Just a child; he saw his sexuality like a monster. But Liam's too old to keep believing in those; making monsters of things he doesn't understand. Sophia left and he woke up. And the hole in his chest had grown while he was asleep. It grew limbs and roots, and it showed itself to be something else. It evolved.

Liam's reached his breaking point. So now he's back. Five years later, inept as ever and still kissing away a shame that's grown three times in size. Harry figures that's why it needs to go away with a fuck, now. That's fine with him, too. Harry's just running with this blindly, after all. But that's what things are always like with him. Right now reminds him of the first time. He's rusty and off the rails in new territory. But Harry will just keep going forward so long as he knows there's ground under him and Liam is by his side.

He pulls his head back a little, and Liam keeps planting kisses to his cheek. They need to get things going. "I've, um... Liam."

"Hm?"

"I have some, um. Lube. In my bag, I think."

"Oh, okay. Yeah" He sits back once he realizes Harry is trying to get off the bed, giving him space.

And in the dark, Harry quickly walks to the other side of his room to his unpacked luggage bag as his erection slaps against his belly. He decides he can manage feeling around the bag for the bottle of lube without turning on the light. Once by his bag, Harry crouches down to look. And he's surprised to luck out and find it zipped inside in the very first outside pocket he checks. He calls out quietly, hoping Liam hears him, "C'mere." He can make out the dark shadow of Liam in the dark, still on the bed. "So I don't have to go there and come back." Harry chuckles as he stands up, giving his yearning cock a few tugs.

And quickly, Liam comes over to stand in front of him. Twice the lube bottle clicks; open and shut. And then Harry throws it back into his bag. As he reaches his slicked hand down, he laughs when Liam shines the light of his phone on his cock so he can see. The harsh light makes the oil look shiny on his dick as Harry lubes it up, squelching quietly with every hard stroke. Liam leans in to surprise him with a quick kiss to his cheek, making Harry grin.

"Big, innit?"

Harry turns his head up to him and chuckles, wondering what part of Liam's face he's looking. "Let me see your face." He mumbles, but decides to do it himself, taking the phone from his hand. And he shines the lock screen on Liam's face, who squints in the light and turns his head, smiling embarrassed.

"Aw, look who's bashful now." Harry teases him, pumping his wet cock slowly in his hand.

"Keep your voice down."

And Harry moves the light away before leaning forward, pressing into Liam as he wraps his arm around his neck. Liam hugs him back, hands on his waist. The cheap, heavy musk of Axe body wash has faded away from Liam's skin, Harry notices. There's such a bare, lush smell to him, instead. Harry closes his eyes, ghosting his lips over Liam's ear. "You feel good?" He whispers. "Better? About... what was wrong?" He's not being sexy or sultry about it. Just his best friend talking, making sure. And Harry finds it's easier to be that person in this situation than he thought. He wonders what Liam thinks about it. How he approaches the lines crossed.

Liam stays quiet. Like he doesn't know the answer, or is trying to think of the best sounding one. "Yeah." There he goes pushing Harry's hair back, leaning his head into his neck to kiss him in the places revealed. Open-mouthed, real kisses. Not pecks. Breathing into him.

Harry doesn't know what step Liam took; deeper into this, or backwards onto the surface of what they are to each other.

"Let's get on the bed." Liam whispers.

And Harry can't help but smile. He hands Liam his phone back before walking until he's back on the bed. On all fours, he decides. The thought of what will happen just doesn't sink all the way in yet. It isn't until he feels Liam's hands on his hips and his body pressing against his ass that his heart starts beating in his throat, excitement knocking him into a daze. He notices when Liam's hand leaves his hip a light begins to shine behind him. He's holding his phone again, Harry can tell; shining the light from his lock screen's over Harry's ass. Cheeks burning red, Harry arches his back and spreads his legs, perking his ass for him to see everything he wants. Liam touches over it all shamelessly; Harry's creamy white skin, his pink hole, his balls and cock hanging between his thighs

"Fuck..." He breathes, brow knitted together. He starts thrusting slowly against Harry, hand on his slick cock so he can rub it over his hole. He's looking down, mesmerized. Liam doesn't know he should finger Harry open before fucking him, but Harry's too desperate to say anything, already stretched out enough to take him, anyway.

And then Harry feels the tip slipping inside him. His eyes widen a little before fall closed, arms trembling as he holds himself up. Liam goes in in one slow thrust, filling up Harry until his hips are squeezing against his ass. Their arousal comes out in pants and harsh breaths as they try to stay quiet and get used to the feeling; physically, emotionally. Liam pulls out, then pushes back in faster than the first. And that's the one that makes Harry whimper as his arms give out, and he's bent over on his elbows. It's embarrassing to lose control so easily so fast, and Liam laughs in flattery. He sets his phone down on the bed and they're back in the dark. And now Liam's really fucking Harry. He finds his rhythm quickly, hands grabbing onto his best friend's waist as he fucks him. His cock is so lubed up it sounds wet going out and in, and just the sound has him going faster and faster. Harry tries to push himself back up on one hand while the other reaches down to touch himself, self discipline betraying him as he starts making noise. He expects Liam to notice and shut him up, but he never does. Weak to desire; he loves hearing Harry too much. Besides, he isn't being that loud. Just enough for Liam to claim possession over it, like it's all for him.

Just like in the beginning, Liam is going too fast for Harry to process. Funny thing. This isn't close to the best fuck Harry's had, but knowing it's his best friend inside him for the first time is making his heart beat so fast it's hard to breathe. Barely a few minutes in. "Lee, Lee... s-slow do— mate, slow down..." And Liam does, fucking Harry so good in long, gentle strokes. He bends over, weight on top of Harry as he rubs his hands up his stomach, his chest, his throat. Every thrust pushes his cock in deep, sliding out nearly to the tip. And Harry collapses again, the weight of Liam's body pressing him into the mattress until he can't touch his cock anymore. Liam spreads his knees out to keep Harry's pried open, ass perked for him to fuck him even deeper.

Harry props himself on his elbows because it was getting hard to breathe with his face against the bed sheets. His hair is a mess, all over his face. Doesn't care to do anything about it. "Liam..." He whimpers. That seems to set Liam off, and he's kissing Harry madly all over his back and shoulders. He pushes all his curly hair away into one side so he can bury his face into the bare crook of his neck to leave kisses and lick over. Harry turns his head so he can kiss his mouth, instead. They're sloppy and clumsy, sucking on each other's lips and tongues more than anything.

"On your back." Liam pants into his mouth. "Yeah?" His hand runs down the side of Harry's thigh.

"Mhmm." He bites his lip, dimples creasing his cheeks as he smiles. Liam's helping Harry roll over, thrusting his cock against his body even when he slides out.

On his back is more comfortable. Maybe that was Liam's intention. He pushes Harry's thighs back until he's spread enough to thrust inside him again, fucking him again. Harry pumps his cock, his brows knitted together as he pushes his hair out of his face and back against the pillow. Missionary's really doing it for him. Liam's on his elbows and he stays so close against him, intimate in a way Harry's never felt before. But he feels like this is something he's always been praying for and the thought of that makes him dizzy. The feeling of a dream come true— When did that show up? Where did it come from? Every breath, every thrust, every touch— There's no distance at all. Liam and Harry are crossing with each other again and again and there's no telling what they are right now. Harry drags his hands to blindly feel Liam's chest in a way he thinks he's always wanted. Hairy and built solid, but not lean. His muscles tense and spasm all over, especially when Harry touches him. Liam leans down to kiss Harry, this time going on kissing his cheeks, his nose, his forehead. And they laugh until the euphoria silences them to pants and gasps again.

Harry's stroking his cock harder and he think he might be close. He looks up at Liam. Even though he's invisible in the dark, he's jacking off to how hot Liam is. "Faster..." He whimpers, now impatient. How long did he even last? He's gonna make himself cum already. His wet, pink lips are parted in soft gasps as Liam picks up his pace intensely, fiercely— The way he would've this whole time if Harry hadn't wanted it the other way; he'll do anything for him. Liam can make himself last long, but Harry's body is sensitive. The only way he can last is if he isn't too weak to keep his hands off himself, or if a cock ring forces him to. But he gives in tonight, unable to put up a fight against temptation. And Liam, always at his aid, drives Harry straight towards his orgasm as he pushes Harry's knees to his chest and rams into him as fast as he can. Cock slamming into him, whining against Liam's tongue and pumping his cock frantically is how Harry cums. And he's gasping, nearly wheezing, while his hips involuntarily raise off the mattress and his thighs tremble as thick semen squirts onto his stomach and chest. Harry's surprised Liam didn't turn on his phone to watch.

Coming down from the high takes a while. His face feels like it's burning, his heart stomping in his chest. Harry hums quietly as he runs his fingers through his now tangled hair, and Liam starts kissing his thighs. He just can't go a moment without kissing him, or touching him. And now that Harry thinks about it, this is so bizarre. His best friend fucked him, and it's less of a trip than he knows it probably should be. Is that just him, free-spirited Harry Styles, being okay with everything again? He doesn't think so. His mind didn't change now that he's sobered up. Liam is spreading his legs and kissing his way down his ass and onto his hole, and Harry just brings his hand down to pet him lovingly. This doesn't feel like what he's always done with him before. He isn't thinking about being of service to Liam at all. They're fucking. Really close. Really sweet. Really nice. Harry wonders if this is gonna change anything between them. But Liam will probably just bottle this whole night up and try to recover.

Liam hasn't cum, yet, Harry realizes. He leans forward and grabs Liam by the arm, bringing him on top of him as he spreads his legs. He puts his hand on Liam's lower back, encouraging him to bring his hips down between his legs again. And Liam gets the idea. He slips his cock inside Harry again, dropping his head with a deep sigh. He lifts his hands off the mattress until he's postured up straight, tall. Hands roaming over the inside of Harry's thighs, careful not to touch his sensitive, hardening dick. And Harry's exhausted, but keeps getting his kicks out of this; feels it in his balls. Liam is fucking him so _hard_ , thrusting Harry's body against the hotel bed as they both struggle to stay quiet. He slumps forward again against Harry, and this time he cups his face with both hands to kiss him the most passionately Harry thinks he's ever been kissed. Hips snapping fast, contradicting the slow drag of his lips for a deep kiss. And then Liam's kissing his neck, and he's saying something; murmuring, babbling. "Love," he says a lot. "I love you, I love you..." He must be close to cumming, thinking of Sophia while fucking Harry to get him there. And then,

"Harry... baby, baby... Love you so much..."

Over and over and over. The same thing slurred and babbled in countless different ways. And Harry just takes a deep breath, face softening as he blinks up at the dark.

_What?_

And then he pushes himself off, hand beside Harry's head on the pillow. He reaches his other hand towards another part of the bed. And now, he's shining his phone's light over Harry's face again. The most beautiful person in the world. His face red, cheeks an even deeper, rich red and his lips flushed. The pupils in his green eyes blown wide, the hair around his forehead wet. Liam moves his hand to Harry's neck. Fingers tucked behind his neck and his thumb along his jaw, just below his ear. He's fucking him harder, so much harder. Grunting, panting. Harry's hard again and gasps with every thrust. He reaches his hand to pet over Liam's next to his head. Immediately, Liam takes it, and intertwines their fingers to hold his hand tightly against the bed sheets. And then Liam does something Harry didn't see coming at all. He moves his hand that's holding his phone back and to the side, so the light hits his face, too. Sweaty, breathing hard through his nose. He wants Harry to look at him; for them to look into each other's eyes.

It's almost self-destructive. Liam's dark eyes are full of fear, lament for the mistake he knows he made when he lost control and confessed. Harry can't look away. There's a terrifying fragility in this. He moves his free hand to cup Liam's cheek, looking into his eyes in a way he doesn't think he ever has. Warm, a glazed inexperienced glimmer in his eyes when he smiles. _Why haven't I ever looked at Liam this way?_

And then Liam shatters, his body falling on top of Harry as he cums inside him. Snapping his hips once, twice; and then he stays there pressing into him as he empties himself. Liam's whole body trembles, spasms making his leg kick out. He keeps cumming, gasping next to Harry's ear.

This isn't the same thing it's always been between them.

This falls out of the spectrum of that rare exception he's always shared with Liam. And now, the worry rushes in and splashes in Harry's head. Worrying about what he's supposed to do about Liam being in love with him. He doesn't know. He's closed off again. His mind tells him this isn't his problem to tend to, that he can't handle the weight of this without going mad. He doesn't want this. He needs to tell Liam to get out of his room. He should. That's what he needs to do. 

Harry's startled when Liam quickly pulls his hand away from Harry's, and moves away from between his legs to the other side of the bed. Harry can't tell what he's doing. But he's on his knees, hands coiling around his hair as he breathes heavily into the pillow.

_"I should be able to do it on my own... But I just can't. It's worse, now. It's... It's really bad. A proper like, crisis."_

_"It's just come out... now that... we broke up. She was making it better like, but I was just ignoring it while it got worse."_

_"Harry... baby, baby... Love you so much..."_

"Sorry." Liam whispers, his voice sounding wounded. His feet thump on the carpet as he gets off the bed. Harry sits up quickly. Liam's bent over on the floor trying to find his clothes. Harry can see he's holding his pants in his hand while he frantically searches for the rest of his clothes in the dark. Liam wants to leave as badly as he knows Harry wants him to. That doesn't feel right, for some reason. Harry isn't watching Liam's shadow, anymore. He listens to him scurry. The sound of clothes sliding on Liam's skin. A sniffle from crying. The sound of his footsteps on the carpet. The sound of him leaving.

"Wait."

Harry's voice cracks, like it wasn't ready to say that. When he hears the handle of his hotel room door jingle, he panics. The same panic back when he was sitting on the edge of the bed and Liam was coming over to him with a weight on his back. Except this time he panics knowing Liam's leaving with a heavier one. "Wait, don't. Liam wa— Liam! Liam!"

Harry makes it, putting his hand on the cracked open door to slam it closed. "For fuck's sake!" Liam hisses, trying to get Harry away as he grabs the door handle again.

"No, don't go, don't go." Harry grabs Liam's wrists and pulls them away, against his chest. He's slurring his words, feeling like he can't breathe. "Don't go. I don't want you to go, alright?" And Harry throws his arms around Liam, squeezing him so tight even though Liam doesn't hold him back. It feels so weird now that Liam has clothes on, and Harry's still naked. He finally feels as exposed as he knows he is, now. What happened to his callus? What happened to being blocked from impact? Where did it go?

"Just let me go." Liam's voice is trembling, his face feeling wet on Harry's shoulder.

"I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay." And he keeps telling Liam that. He can't say anything else. He kisses his neck the way Liam's done so many times with him tonight; mimicking out of incompetence, a lack of resources and fear. "I want you here, Liam. I want you to stay and— and be with me. Don't go, please. I want you to stay."

_I want you to stay._

It means so much more. But they're the only words Harry has. He's outside those four walls that blind him and block him from everything, but he's not in that loud heaven on the other side. It's when Liam finally wraps his arms around him and cries that Harry knows. It's shelter. And it's his to give. "You fucking baby." Harry laughs, eyes welling with tears. And that's just so weird for him; to be full of so much emotion that he just cries with no purpose. That's Liam's thing. It makes him laugh more as he feels warm tears streaming down his cheeks. There isn't a catastrophe in this, there's no devastation. All the locks and chains to protect that bulging door are still safe. And Liam is safe from his own storm, even if it's just for now. But this is all Harry knows right now. He ran away and made shelter just for Liam in a bright, barren place. He doesn't understand what anything else is. What it means. He's left everything he knows back in the obscurity.

He doesn't know that what it means is he's been in love with Liam this whole time. In the dark, you see, he just felt the weight of it and locked it away, not knowing the heaven he denied. All that sentiment is still back there; still in the dark. He doesn't have it with him now. But if Harry could see in the dark, he could measure the good. If Harry could see in the dark, he would know. And he could tell Liam the measure of the love he's always, _always_ felt for him in more than five, lacking words.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed what I wrote. Please leave kudos and share your thoughts with me in the comments.


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